


bitter work (dig your heels into the dirt)

by mahadevi



Series: molten core [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 2: Earth, Canon-Typical Violence, Episode: s02e08 The Chase, Episode: s02e09 Bitter Work, Gen, Hurt Zuko (Avatar), Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, POV Multiple, Zuko Gets Hurt In The Chase AU, azula lightnings zuko one season too soon and accidentally gives him Friends, everyone except aang says fuck and it stresses him out, non canon typical language, tagging is hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:07:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24578767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahadevi/pseuds/mahadevi
Summary: With her back against the wall, Azula decides that the best way out is to kill a dragon. It's a daunting, but simple enough task. One swift strike, right through the heart, and it will never move again.In which Azula shoots her brother full of lightning to make her escape, and Iroh has the desperation and humility to ask for help before it’s offered.
Relationships: Aang & Zuko (Avatar), Iroh & Katara (Avatar), Iroh & The Gaang (Avatar), Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), Katara & Zuko, The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar)
Series: molten core [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1776538
Comments: 81
Kudos: 1672
Collections: AtLA <10k fics to read, I think of you as my own, Quality Fics





	bitter work (dig your heels into the dirt)

**Author's Note:**

> I always thought that the ending of 2x8 is really funny but also tragic like are you ever so emotionally unstable that you refuse life saving medical attention for your injured uncle. why is zuko like this. either way I thought smth like "iroh's emotionally stable enough to let katara help" but then I remembered lu ten and the hypothetical situation got WAY sadder and well here we are.
> 
> EDIT: 06/10/2020  
> changed the title to make it a bit more distinct from the source material!! will continue the naming trend with the other works in the series

**+**

She’s strong. Stronger than any of the other _children_ who corner her, snarling like beasts straining at their chains. All bark, no bite. Really, if they wanted to take her they would’ve just done so already. Their distance, their posture — they know it as well as she does. She could beat any one of them. Now, with four of them sluggish and sleep deprived and brother dearest crackling with a fury that dulls his already lacking senses, she could probably take all five of them at once.

She wouldn’t dare to try it now, not in the presence of a sixth — not that she couldn’t beat six idiots into the dirt, no, this sixth man in particular turns the tides against her. She could probably hold her own against her Uncle but he is just as deadly as he is fat and foolish. He does not keep his distance because of hesitation, but out of that sense of nauseating _kindness_ he adopted when Lu Ten fell on the walls of Ba Sing Se. He thinks her a child, his precious niece — maybe he thinks it’s Zuko’s right to best her. She never could tell what went through the old coot’s head even before he lost his spine.

But, what’s this? He’s distracted? The dragon’s fangs are not yet dulled but they are worthless with a lazy eye. He’s looking left, at the Avatar and his compatriots, past the beloved nephew by his side. Funny. She thought he only had eyes for him and him alone. Didn’t he learn his lesson the last time he took his eyes off of one of his precious boys? Maybe she needs to teach him again. She’s been wanting to see just how quickly she could summon her lightning either way. What better time than now?

She sparks, and then she shoots.

**+**

It happens all in one breath.

Azula smiles that awful smirk of hers and then there’s a flurry of movement and that bright blue electricity and then Zuko _screams._ It’s high and pained and choked out through an inhale and Katara turns and stares in horror as she watches Zuko fall backwards with an expression that’s somehow both stupefied and resigned at the exact same time. Like he couldn’t believe what was happening but also didn’t expect anything less. Like the only thing shocking about being shot in the chest with lightning by his own sister is that it didn’t happen sooner.

In the next breath, she is gone.

It never really struck Katara just how _young_ Zuko was. Aang had called him a teenager before but it never really registered. Maybe it was her own mistake, making out the enemy to be bigger and scarier than she was. It’s not like the shaved head and ponytail and the harsh lines of anger digging canyons into his face had helped much either. But now, with a head full of messy hair, with parted lips shaking with every agonized breath, with his uncle’s trembling frame curled over his body protectively — he looks impossible young. 

“Please.” His uncle says. His voice is wracked with grief. He looks up with tearful eyes, hands clasped around his nephew’s arm. “I know that we have not done anything to earn your kindness but I beg of you, I cannot lose another son.”

And oh, she hates them, hates their gold eyes and red robes and the dawn with which they rise with. Hates them for stealing her mother and taking her father and tearing something bright and beautiful from her brother’s chest. Hates them for the sleepless nights of terror spent listening for branches or breathing, for trying to choke the life out of the world by wrapping their burning hands around a child’s neck and squeezing until he never moves again.

But she was moving even before he asked, trembling hands over still waters, falling to her knees and drowning the scent of seared flesh under the soft blue glow. She’s pushing the blood back into the body of the man who damn near burned her home to the ground. She’s counting the breaths of the Prince of a nation whose hatred charred the Earth into ash. She’s praying for the life of a boy who is dying — not for the first time, not for the last.

**+**

Sokka really fucking hates this.

Everything _seriously_ blows major dick. So much dick. Unbelievable amount of dick. It was already bad when they were being hunted down by the crazy fire princess, and then they didn’t sleep for two days straight, and _then_ he got pressure-pointed into oblivion — it’s been a rough few days. He doesn’t even want to think about the girl drama that their little group underwent. He doesn’t want to think about girl drama period. That was the biggest dick of them all, a messy and bitchy dick that blew so hard—

Maybe this dick thing is getting away from him. The point is that he’s stuck in an abandoned house with a dying bitchbender and his incredibly weepy uncle. And for reasons that Sokka fully understands but desperately does not want to, he’s really feeling for both of them. 

‘Cannot lose another son’, Tui and fucking La, how can he _not_ feel for the guy? The old man has never been the dangerous evil world destroying one between him and his nephew. Sokka actually kind of thinks of him as a decent dude. He did after all, threaten to commit treason for the sake of a water tribe spirit. Before proceeding to _actually_ commit treason but like in the most badass way possible. He absolutely destroyed like five soldiers without breaking a sweat. Some of the glory goes away when he officially introduces himself and Toph casually mentions that he’s a general so great that he was literally the only person to penetrate an impenetrable city.

And then Iroh mentions the reason why he never quite fully finished the job at Ba Sing Se and fuck, yeah, it’s all coming together. Sokka’s seen the remnants of war in the eyes of the elders. In his own grandmother’s hollow gaze as she whispers tales from her childhood, of friends who absences still ache and keep her awake. Hears it every single day in his sister’s voice as her voice cracks around a name that Sokka can barely attach a face to. Did Iroh see his son’s body breaking over the rubble when Zuko was sent sprawling to the dirt? Ugh, he doesn’t even want to think about this, this sucks, this fucking _blows so hard._

“Wicked.” Sokka says instead of the million sympathies and apologies and comforts he wants to offer but isn’t sure how to present. Besides, Katara and Aang have enough compassion between them to will a baby cat-possum into existence. Someone has to play asshole and keep things moving, and Sokka’s used to the role. “So what do we do now.”

“Sokka.” Katara admonishes. Her glare makes it very clear that the only reason she’s not freezing his ass solid is because she’s otherwise occupied. “Now is not the—“

“It really kinda is.” Sokka persists. “These guys are _traitors._ Now I’m all for fucking over the Fire Nation and you both helped out a surprising amount at the North Pole,” he admits, nodding at Iroh begrudgingly. The man gives a gentle smile in return. “but there’s probably a bounty on your heads. The last thing we need is more trouble; we get enough of it with this guy around.”

Aang swats away the finger pointed at him, scowling his completely unthreatening scowl. “Sokka, can we at least wait until Zuko is better?” He says in that voice which makes everything sound rational even when he’s talking about jumping down mail chutes or magical talking swamps. “We can’t just leave him defenceless like this.”

Sokka gapes, gesturing wildly at the dynamic duo in question. “He _just_ told you that he’s The Dragon Of The West. Y’know, Fire Nation general and guilty of several war crimes. This guy could probably take out a small army by himself!”

“You flatter me.” Iroh laughs in that sagely, all knowing way all old people laugh. His smile falls easily. “I can handle myself. But I cannot tend to my nephew the way your water-bender has.” He inhales a shuddering breath. It hurts Sokka’s throat.

“This healing isn’t enough?” He asks, weakly, already knowing the outcome and resigning himself to their new companions. But they’re still talking, and he might as well air as much shit while they’re here.

“We’ve been separated for some time now, so I have not been able to properly take care of Prince Zuko.” He runs a gentle hand through dirty black hair. Maybe Sokka could hate the guy more if he still had his weird bald ponytail thing going on. “I do not know what he has gone though, but he looked underfed and injured even before Azula struck him down. It will only complicate his recovery further.”

“It’s true.” Katara says quietly. Her hands haven’t stopped moving. “The burn itself is… pretty serious. It would cause a lot of trouble but be manageable, if he was healthy. The way he looks now, he might get a fever, he’ll definitely take longer to heal.” 

Sokka sighs, ready to give his standard melodramatic surrender and allow Aang to friendship the ever-loving _shit_ out of the revered war hero. He doesn’t get the chance to. “I am begging you.” Iroh says in that soft and sad old man voice of his. Oh shit, now Sokka really feels like an asshole. “Please, you do not even have to take me along with you, but Prince Zuko—“

“Holy fuck dude.” Sokka blurts. “It’s okay, you both can join us, spirits above, we’re not going to let you two _die.”_

“We weren’t?” Toph blurts, because she’s a big stupid boulder head who would never learn the meaning of grace or delicacy unless it punched her in the teeth. “You were really sounding like you were planning on it.”

Sokka splutters. “Why the fuck would I do that!? Am I really that big of an asshole to you guys!?” 

“Yes.” Katara and Toph say in unison. Aang makes a very long “ehhhhhhh” noise and wiggles his palm. 

Seriously. Cock and balls, this day doth suck.

But Iroh’s lost that tight desperation around his eyes, so that’s a good thing.

**+**

_“Knees high twinkletoes!”_ The impassioned cry is followed by a series of pained groans. Iroh winces in sympathy. He had attempted to learn the fundamentals of earth bending from Bumi some years back. Too many bruises for his liking.

Zuko whines gently, eyebrows furrowing and face twisting. He’s always been a light sleeper. Iroh’s almost surprised that he slept peacefully through all the healing and arguing and bison flying and camp making. He was malnourished and still crackling with the remnants of electricity, but Prince Zuko would jolt awake with the beginnings of rain as it just started to trickle down. It had kept him awake all night, watching the Prince’s breathing even as the other children collapsed into a pile of exhausted limbs. His weariness was bone deep, but he could not look away. He needed to make sure that Zuko kept breathing.

Now, he feels as though his heart has settled. Zuko’s breathing is steadier, warming — it intensified as the sun rose in the horizon, his body drinks in Agni’s warmth like a dying man drinks water at an oasis. Iroh knows not what he would have done with a cold frame. He pushes the thought from his mind and brushes Zuko’s hair away from his forehead.

“G’morning!” Katara says cheerfully, stepping through the doorframe of the makeshift tent that Toph set up the night before. She’s carrying a big tub of water on one hip and a plate of food in the other hand, settling both on the Earthern floor and smiling at Iroh. “Sorry I didn’t head over sooner. Breakfast had some… complications.” She frowns. Iroh thinks fondly of the myriad of screams that had erupted at the crack of dawn. She shakes her head and brightens. “How is Zuko doing?”

Iroh shakes his head. Really, such lovely children. “My nephew’s condition has improved, and there seems to be no signs of fever or infection.” He takes the plate offered and digs in gratefully. It’s lacking seasoning and overcooked but rich in flavour still. Clumsily but carefully made. He bows. “I cannot fully express the extent of my gratitude.”

Katara’s smile is gentle but playful. “You can start by rolling him over.” She teases, shifting the tub closer to her. “Hopefully we can get him healed up for travel — we have a lot of ground to cover.”

“Of course!” Iroh agrees amicably, quietly wondering just where the Avatar and his friends are going, just what their purpose is. Do they even know? They are four children with nothing more than an easily identifiable evil and some notion of a destiny. Singleminded and simple ideology has carried them to victory thus far; red is the colour of the enemy, hit it until it breaks, save those in trouble. 

They had spent weeks floating past bodies in the North Pole. The icy air kept the stench of rot and decay away but Iroh had faced down a legion of soldiers with the bright fire of ambition frozen in their eyes, with their blue lips stiff around their last breaths. They died at the hands of a boy too gentle to turn his hands towards his teacher, a boy who opens his camp towards the enemy with an easy smile.

Iroh shudders. He has another boy to think of now. The boy who he aches to gather in his lap and hold close just to feel his breathing. The boy with a war waging inside of him that Iroh has to fuel despite how much it hurts. The boy he let burn at the hand of his brother, too weak to do anything but watch.

The boy who wakes with a groan. 

The boy who’s caught sight of his saviour and is setting his palms alight.

Oh. That’s not very good.

Zuko yells as Iroh pins his wrists down, writhing in place, spitting sparks and kicking bursts of flame. “Don’t _touch me!”_ He cries, before recognition clears the cloud in his eyes. The panic doesn’t recede, it is now simply accompanied by confusion. His gaze flits to the entrance of their abode, the Avatar and his friends thundering inside.

“What’s going on?” Sokka’s got one hand on his club and both eyes trained on Iroh’s firm grip on his nephew. “We heard yelling.”

“And firebending.” Toph adds.

“Which is never a good sound.” Sokka continues, adjusting his grip on his club.

“I think that should be my question.” Zuko snarls. His chest is heaving and he’s damp with the sweat of exertion, face pallid from the pain that undoubtedly coursed through his body as he struggled. Iroh relaxes his grip and lets go. Zuko doesn’t seem to notice. “So let me ask. Uncle. What the _hell_ is going on?”

Well, the chance to break the news delicately has long since passed. Might as well just forge ahead. “We’ve joined the Avatar!” Iroh says jovially. Zuko’s entire face goes slack.

“We’ve what.” Zuko replies flatly.

“We’re accompanying them on their quest?”

“We’re _WHAT.”_ Zuko snaps, steam spilling out from his mouth and shooting to his feet — at least, he tries to, but his wound gets the better of him and he cries out, slumping back to the ground. “Uncle, we can’t just— it’s not— how did you even—“ Oh dear, maybe he should’ve picked a better moment for this. Talk about a rude awakening. _“What the fuck.”_

“Language, Prince Zuko.”

“Get fucked.” Sokka snickers. Iroh chooses to ignore that particular comment. “You’re riding with us now, your Sparkiness.”

“Gargle my fat flaming chode you limp dick frozen son of a bitch.” Zuko spits. Sokka splutters. Toph howls with laughter. Iroh sighs, he had hoped that time away from the ship would rid him of some of the more unsavoury habits. “We’re not doing shit.”

“Yeah. _You’re_ not doing shit Zuko,” Katara blurts. The curse makes all of her friends flinch, staring at her wide eyed. “it’s been less than a day since you got blasted. Even though you want to, you can’t leave. Like. Physically, you’re way too weak.”

Zuko outright snarls. “Weak?”

Katara unflinchingly shoves his shoulder and pushes him down. He goes easily with nothing but a cry of pain. “Like a _baby.”_ She sneers back.

“Damn Sugar Queen, drag his ass.” Toph mutters, clearly deciding that the situation’s run its course. Aang lets out a rather unflattering snort of laughter as he’s shoved back off to his training.

Face beaded with sweat, eyes burning with fury, Zuko looks desperately up at Iroh. “Uncle.” He pleads.

Iroh smiles. “Think of it as a vacation Prince Zuko. A time for rest.” 

Zuko groans and throws his head back against the ground as hard as he can.

**+**

Toph can’t say that things have gotten weird ever since the old man and his flaming nephew showed up. Things have never been _normal_ in the first place. Maybe approaching normalcy? Like the balance between the four of them was just beginning to settle before her royal bitch busted in and chased them down, and then in the aftermath they were left with two new additions to the group and no idea what to do next.

Well, she has an idea of what to do next. And that’s to get Aang to stop _bitching_ and to start _bending._ Seriously. Avatar her ass, he’s just a little baby in big boy clothes. Flighty and fleeting, he darts all around. He’s gotten better, much better than she thought he could in one day — he sits lower and stronger and she can feel the power pulsing in his core. But it’s not enough to break stone, not enough to bend it proper.

The prince’s awakening hasn’t helped matters either, having completely taken Katara out of the equation. Katara’s like a double edged sword — she’s good at keeping his spirits up and preventing Aang from wallowing in his failures, but also he gets all soppy and stupid around her because he’s a dumb stupid boy who wants to show off and also wants to stare at his crush for hours. Toph had hoped that with Katara away healing Zuko, Aang could get his head in gear and get down to business. But now he’s more distracted than ever, probably staring at the little rock cave where she’s healing Zuko.

“You do realize she can easily kick his ass like this, right?” She blurts. “Like, the guy crawled his way back from the brink of death less than a day ago. He can’t do much to hurt her.”

“Yeah but…” Aang starts. Toph rolls her unseeing eyes.

“Weren’t you supposed to be the one of good faith and good will? What happened to that benevolence?” She jeers, flicking him in the forehead. “Where’s all that faith now?”

The pattern thus far has been; Toph teasing, Aang spluttering in indignation and then shooting back just as hard. Simple easy banter. But this time Aang deflates with the heaviest sigh that Toph has ever heard that kid make. “Oh.” She says, distinctly feeling like she’s in over her head. “Oh no.”

“It’s just—“ Aang starts, stops, then sits on the ground in one bit flopping motion. Toph makes them both a more comfortable place to sit. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Zuko saved me once. He snuck into a Fire Nation base to do so. Like, actually broke in and fought a bunch of guards and saved me from Fire Nation captivity—“

“He sure likes treason, huh.”

“and like. He only did it because he needed to capture me himself.” Aang huffs out a little laugh, one of the ones that make him feel one hundred and twelve years old. “I asked him if he wanted to be friends. He shot fire at me.”

“Uh. Yeah. Of course he would.” Toph stares at him disbelievingly. “Where are you even going with this?”

“I’m just… worried.” Aang sighs. “He doesn’t like it here. And he’s really good at fighting. I don’t want any of you to get hurt.” 

Toph melts a little. Damn kid, making her all soft and mushy. He deserves the sharp punch to the ribs she gives him. “Idiot.” She says fondly over his pained groans. “We’ll be fine.”

It’s in that exact moment that another round of fire bending and yelling erupts from the rock-tent. Aang grabs her wrist and pulls Toph along without a word. Toph closes her eyes and asks the spirits just _why_ they love proving her wrong so much.

“Just accept the fucking healing!” Sokka’s yelling, which means the situation’s spiralled way out of control. “All you have to do is lie down and not move, that’s _it._ Not hard at all!”

“I don’t need it.” The prince seethes. Everyone lets out a chorus of frustrated and disbelieving noises. “I don’t need anymore of it. I’m fine, I’m not dead, I can keep going—“

“You’re on the verge of passing out every time you sit up!” Katara cries. “You’re shaking from exertion even when you’re lying down. You are _not_ okay, not at all Zuko.”

Toph thinks the situation’s already buck-fucking-wild, and contrary to popular belief she _does_ know when to keep her trap shut, so she stays quiet. She purposefully does not mention the fact that she felt Sparky’s heartbeat downright stop for more than a few seconds, that it remained irregular and erratic for hours after the lightning struck. She doesn’t need to see the wound to know that it fucked him up and frankly, she’s kind of impressed that the guy’s not completely down for the count.

“Prince Zuko,” Uncle starts, voice achingly gentle even in the chaos. “You need your rest.”

“And I will rest. But I don’t need their healing.” Toph can almost hear his lip curl. “I don’t need their _pity.”_

And then the world explodes.

It doesn’t actually, of course. But Toph’s world explodes, in that every single sense of hers gets overloaded in just half a second. Several things happen at once, which would probably play out with much more clarity if Toph could actually see it. She sense Aang tense at her side before charging forwards. She hears the tub of water tip and spill all over the ground and Katara yell in protest. Then she feels — she doesn’t hear nor does she notice no, she feels this in her bones — Aang swing his head back and headbutt Sparky as hard as fucking possible.

“Aang!” Several people shout with varying degrees of bafflement.

“Stop running away!” Aang shouts in turn, effectively ignoring all of them. Toph blinks. Zuko splutters.

“How am I—“

“You don’t want to be our friend! Fine. Whatever. That’s okay.” He says in a tone of voice that makes it very clear that he does not find anything about that situation okay in the slightest. “But it’s not like you have many other options! You’re in no shape to fight so we’d take you down no problem. If you decided to leave then you’d be a liability to your uncle. _Clearly_ you’re not going to just accept it and move on so just. deal. with. it." Each word is punctuated by one harsh poke right into Zuko’s chest, hard enough to be audible. "Stop complaining, stop running, stop dragging your feet. Face it head on.”

Toph bites back her grin. For a bitch baby, Aang could be pretty intimidating sometimes. Not to her of course. But Zuko's clearly intimidated, based on his stunned silent. But Toph can recognize that the kid's pretty damn smart, even though he's too stupid to realize just what truth he's stumbled upon half the time.

The silence has stretched long enough. She spits into the dirt. Aang yelps and jumps off the prince’s lap in a rush of wind, she grabs him by the ear and pulls him down the rest of the way. “Fuckin’ finally.” She grumbles. “Let’s get you catching that boulder already!”

“Toph!? What does the boulder catching have to do with any of this!”

“You said it yourself; face it head on. Y’know, the thing I’ve been beating into your head for the past six hours? Did I throw too many rocks at you? Does Katara need to help out?”

“If any of you need healing, deal with it yourself.” Katara huffs. The water splashes, and soon enough the hum of healing fills the air. Her heartbeat is quick and delighted. “Unless you’re also shot full of lightning, I don’t want to hear it. This is more than enough as it is.”

The prince coughs awkwardly. Toph has to bite back her smile as she catches the guilty twinges of his heart. Oh what an open _book,_ how absolutely precious. “Uh.” He says quietly, shifting in place. “Thank you for healing me. Sorry about. About everything.”

Oh she’s going to have _so_ much fun with this guy.

Katara is a righteous woman of kindness and bullshit, so she says “I’m just doing my duty”, probably wearing a saccharine sweet smile of benevolence. It makes the Prince’s heart stumble again, which is fun. Seriously, this is great. 

Uncle Iroh starts speaking, his grin shining through his words. “Prince Zuko—“

“Uncle.”

“I do believe—“

_“Uncle.”_

“That this is a momentous—“

“Finish that sentence and I promise you that I _will_ reopen this wound.”

Uncle Iroh doesn’t finish the sentence, but his glee is tangible. Toph beams and drags Aang away.

**+**

He keeps his mouth shut through the healing, and through the incredibly loud and disastrous earth bending, and even manages to stay quiet through Sokka’s gloating. He figures he might as well, because as much as he loathes these people they took care of him in sickness and he was raised to treat his hosts politely. Also, Katara scares Sokka away with a few choice words and some well placed icicles, and he immediately respects her and her abilities. Not that he didn’t before. She thoroughly thrashed him in the Spirit Garden.

She still has that glint in her eyes even as she moves her glowing palms across his wound. “My brother’s an idiot.” She says, not really looking at him. “He’ll stop being such a jerk in a couple of days. He just needs to get it out of his system.”

“He fucking better.” Zuko mutters, stiffening upon the realization that _shit,_ that wasn’t very good etiquette at all. 

Katara snickers, never taking her eyes off of the sprawling wound. The humour seems to die quickly as she continues to look at it. “…you won’t be in great shape any time soon.” She says. “I can only do so much healing each day. This isn’t a magic cure or anything. It’s going to take a while.”

Shit. Fuck. Zuko grits his teeth and shuts his eyes. “Of course.” He spits. He throws a hand over his eyes, feeling much too exposed. “Where’s uncle?”

“He’s asleep.” Katara says. She discards the water she’s using, collects some more to keep working. “He was up all night watching you. He was too worried to sleep.” Zuko hums his response. Katara’s hands hesitate over his stomach. “He told us about what happened to your cousin.”

The arm over his face slides away. He doesn’t open his eyes. After a very long moment, Zuko says, “Tell him to come see me when he’s awake.” Then he pauses, and adds, “please.”

“Of course.” Katara replies, and then she continues working in silence. 

He apparently falls asleep like that, opening his eyes only when a gnarled hand passes over his scar. He doesn’t tense — the touch and its motion is a familiar one. “Uncle.” He murmurs, opening his bleary eyes.

“Prince Zuko.” He’s greeted in return. Now that he’s looking without the haze of anger clouding his vision, he can see the exhaustion in the bags under Uncle Iroh’s eyes. It makes guilt twist in his gut, but before he can say anything he’s being offered a hand. “Come with me to the campfire.”

Walking is damn near impossible, even with half his weight braced on his uncle’s shoulders. It’s humiliating. His entire body quivers like a leaf in the wind and sweat pours down his forehead like he’s gone through four rounds of katas. He’s on the verge of throwing up by the time they make it to the campfire, he almost feels too flushed to consider sitting next to it.

Then he catches the edges of his warmth, and he changes his mind.

The Avatar only gives him a cursory glance before continuing with his story, animated and bright. The earth-bender girl, Toph he remembers, passes him a bowl without looking at him. He wants to sit vigilant and alert, to keep a watchful gaze on all of the people he’s surrounded by, but the Avatar and his friends are all so fundamentally nonthreatening in this moment. Has he seen the Avatar swallow a man into the ocean never to return? Yes. Is the Avatar a child who laughs so hard when telling a funny story that it loses all humour to his audience? Yes.

So Zuko kind of. Gives up. At least for now. The healing helped a lot but it also sapped all the strength from his bones. Fuck, lightning _hurts._ He doesn’t bother thinking or listening; just focuses on shovelling the bland food into his mouth, letting the conversation wash over him. He lets the food fill his stomach, warm his bones, breathe life back into his body, fill the spaces which Agni’s blessing cannot quite fill. 

“Prince Zuko.” Uncle says, gently but firm, drawing Zuko back to awareness. The circle of people are all staring at him, patiently waiting. “We are now discussing what to do next.”

Zuko blinks. “Oh.” He says. His mind feels ten steps behind. “Leave. As soon as possible.”

“Not yet.” Katara says firmly, leaving no room for argument. “Zuko can barely walk from the rock tent to the campfire without keeling over. This is a safe location, and it leaves time for Aang to practice more earth bending here.” Zuko can’t bother picking a fight, so he nods. Katara’s smile is surprised but relieved.

Sokka nods begrudgingly, scowling as he viciously bites through an apple. _“Fine._ One more day. After that we have to keep going, no matter how good he’s looking.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Zuko says without thinking, too angry and too sharp.

He gets a wholly unimpressed look in return. “Who said I was worried.”

“I think that we should figure out how to deal with Princess Big Bitch.” Toph interjects, staring into the fire. If he had the energy to, Zuko would probably laugh. “I can handle a lot of things, but I can’t handle lightning.”

“I didn’t even know that lightning bending was a thing!” The Avatar says, far too cheerfully.

“It is a technique kept within the royal family.” Uncle interjects. “Even if it were widespread knowledge, it is extremely difficult. It took years for me to master. Currently, only three people in the world who know how to do it.”

“Three?” The Avatar tilts his head, then levels his gaze at Zuko. “So are you—“

“My father is the third.” Zuko says. He feels very cold. “I never learned how. But,” he turns towards Uncle, jaw set and eyes firm. “I need to know how.”

It’s not something he blurts without thought. Does the idea of lightning terrify him to his core? Yes. He still feels its crackling in his bones, feels it ripple through his core in spasms that halt the breath in his lungs. The act of bringing it up is risky in and of itself. He’s not exactly in a favourable position here. They are amenable, but will it last when he regains his strength? The idea of an enemy learning new tricks right under your nose surely can’t be a pleasant one.

He’s not sure what reaction he’s expecting, but it’s not the Avatar bouncing in place with a sort of barely contained energy, excitedly babbling, “Oh! Me too, me too!”

Zuko blinks. “What.”

The Avatar beams broadly at him. “Well, I’ve been thinking. Isn’t this kind of convenient? Cause like. I do need a fire bending teacher, and now that you’re here—“

_“No.”_ Zuko says at the same time as his Uncle, though they are both using very different inflections.

“It is not my duty to serve as your fire bending master.” Uncle says kindly. Zuko scoffs and attacks his plate of food again. No fire-bender with any sense of self respect should be helping the Avatar, helping bring about the end of the Fire Nation’s conquest of glory—

_—leathery strips of skin wrapped around a calf a starving family struggling to fill the absence of a child lost to war hungry children with wide smiles never having known what it meant to be full a room full of children’s skeletons that fit like puzzles against the scorch marks on the wall barren crops and scorched earth these were no famous battlegrounds this was the site of a massacre—_

“…Zuko’s injury,” Uncle’s continuing, leaning over and giving his knee a squeeze. “I cannot teach either of you. However, I will be more than happy to go over some breathing exercises.” He winks knowingly. “I might just have a little trick that’s the perfect solution for lightning.”

The Avatar cheers. Sokka frowns. “She’s your niece. Shouldn’t you try to like, I dunno, work with her? Why are you helping us fight her?”

Uncle’s smile goes tight. “She’s a crazy bitch, and she needs to go down.” He says firmly. Zuko chokes on his next bite. 

“Lovely.” Sokka says tightly. “Just absolutely delightful.”

Uncle smiles widely. “Almost as delightful as this wonderful dinner Master Katara has prepared for us!” He winks. Katara outright blushes.

Zuko kind of wants to be unconscious again.

**+**

Aang’s pretty sure that Zuko has the _coolest_ uncle in the world. Seriously. He developed his own lightning bending technique. By studying water-benders! That’s awesome. He’s awesome, even if he did make Aang and Zuko do breathing exercises for like an hour.

“Your uncle rocks.” Aang gushes, rocking back and forth with his knees tucked to his chest. Zuko looks downright annoyed — Katara told him to watch Zuko while Iroh took his bath and apparently Zuko was very much against the arrangement, to no one’s surprise — but his expression almost softens with Aang’s words.

“Don’t tell him that, his head will explode.” Zuko mutters. There’s almost a joke in there. He feels awful for saying it, but Aang kind of likes this version of Zuko, weak and injured but also softer and quieter and kind of funny. It’s not consistent though, almost immediately after he says the not-quite-joke Zuko’s face twists into a scowl. Shutting down, closing off.

Aang feels his heart kind of sink, but he doesn’t broach it. It still feels like thin ice, dangerous waters, too much too fast. “So,” he says instead, but stops because he kind of started talking without any sort of plan. “Uh. I’m kind of surprised you didn’t put up more of a fight.”

Wow. Great going Aang. Barge right on into those dangerous waters you spent so long establishing. Smooth. 

Luckily, Zuko seems too drained to kick up a fuss. “Do you want me to fight you?” He asks, not looking at Aang, glaring instead at the rocky ceiling above him. “I can. Really. Just say the word and I will.”

Aang snickers. Really. Who knew Zuko could be this funny? “That’s not what I meant.” He rocks back, tilting his head. “I just… I know you don’t like me. And that you really want to capture me. I never expected you to go along with this.”

“You literally head butted me and told me to get my shit together.” Zuko deadpans. Aang simply waits and soon enough Zuko sighs. “We share a common enemy.” Zuko says, still not quite looking at him. Aang blinks, confused.

“Your sister’s your enemy?”

“Did you miss the part where she shot me full of lightning?” And yeah, okay, fair enough. General Iroh said it himself. But still, it doesn’t sit right with Aang. That Zuko swallowed a mouthful of pain delivered by his sister and spat out anger that feels pointed in her direction but lands everywhere other than its target. He’s not sure if saying anything of the sort would send Zuko flying into a fiery rage, and he’s already shoved his foot into his mouth once but still—

“Would capturing me make things better?” He’s… not sure why he asks. He doesn’t want to be captured. He _can’t_ be captured. He doesn’t regret the question but it baffles him. It baffles Zuko too, judging by the outright laugh that tears from his throat.

“Maybe. It’s entirely dependant on whether they have orders to kill on sight or not.” Zuko says, bitter and brittle. A chill makes its way up Aang’s spine. “If they knew that I spent a day lying on my ass with the Avatar never more that ten feet away then my chance of success would most likely drop.”

“Azula wasn’t kidding when she called you a traitor.” Sure. Just monkeybull-doze through this entire conversation. Why not.

_“Leave.”_ Zuko spits, and Aang’s almost surprised that he’s not burned alive by the words alone. 

Man.

This is going to be one crazy trip to Ba Sing Se.

**Author's Note:**

> atla is pure serotonin. 
> 
> bitter work is one of my top 10 episodes like ever im genuinely upset that I had to write out the baby moose lion thing but aang headbutting zuko is just too good. also zuko is way more subdued than I anticipated him to be but I feel like azula shooting him with lightning would be somewhat of a wake up call. like she hated him and was trying to capture him but this meant that his father would be okay with him actually dying. just some Thoughts
> 
> I wanna try and do one fic per episode in book 2 and basically try and accomplish the themes, messages, and important story beats each episode has while mushing zuko and aang's journies together. but also im trying to write a bunch of other multichap stuff and also im in school so do not expect much lmao that's all I can't believe it's taken 11 years for me to write atla fic
> 
> ღ
> 
> ((i read and love all of your comments!! but i don’t know how to respond to most of them beyond just a ‘tysm!!’ so pls assume ur comment made me keel over with happiness even if i don’t respond))
> 
> [my twitter ](https://twitter.com/KAMONORITOSHI)


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